Opinion

Bethany McLean

Where is the political accountability for America’s pension disasters?

Bethany McLean
Dec 11, 2013 22:03 UTC

Five years after the financial crisis, there’s still a hue and cry about sending people to jail. After all, financiers were, at best, self-servingly optimistic about the future. At worst, they said things that weren’t true, and made promises they couldn’t keep. Investigations are still ongoing, and although it’s doubtful, maybe some big guys will go to jail. But there’s another group of people who have injured, and are continuing to injure, millions of Americans with purposefully blind optimism and false promises. Those are politicians in every city and state that is facing a pension shortfall.

You can’t read the news without hearing about the pension problem. Last week, federal judge Steven Rhodes ruled that Detroit can proceed with the largest municipal bankruptcy in history, thereby allowing the city to cut billions of dollars in payments that are owed to city employees, retirees, investors and other creditors. In Illinois, Governor Pat Quinn signed into law a plan that will trim Illinois’s pension hole, which is viewed as being one of the deepest and darkest in the country. (Labor unions say they will challenge the plan in the courts; credit rating agencies have pointed out that the legal protection of pension benefits is particularly strong in Illinois, so it remains to be seen what will happen.)

Inevitably, there is more to come. Rhodes’s ruling could have implications for California cities, like San Bernardino and Vallejo, that are wrestling with bankruptcies. In Chicago, the pension hole is estimated at $20 billion, and according to the New York Times, payments to the local pension fund are expected to increase by $590 million in 2015 to a total annual contribution of almost $1.4 billion. “Should Chicago fail to get pension relief soon, we will be faced with a 2015 budget that will either double city property taxes or eliminate the vital services that people rely on,” Mayor Rahm Emanuel told the Times.

There is disagreement about the size of the problem — it depends on how optimistic you are about the future, and how you truly account for pension liabilities — but most people agree that a problem exists. Estimates of the size of the hole range from almost $1 trillion to well over $4 trillion, according to a 2012 paper by the Kennedy School. In a recent report, the credit rating agency Moody’s, which calculates the pension hole using something called adjusted net pension liability — basically, the difference between the value of a pension plan’s assets and its future benefit payments adjusted for a present-value calculation — wrote that “several large local governments have pension burdens large enough to cause material financial strain.” For instance, in Chicago, the adjusted net pension liability is 678 percent of its annual revenue; 28 other local governments in Moody’s list of the top 50 (based on the amount of debt outstanding and whether or not Moody’s rates them) have an adjusted net pension liability that is greater than their annual revenue. Four of the top 50 local governments have actuarial contribution requirements in excess of 15 percent of operating revenues. In fiscal 2011, 33 of the top 50 local governments contributed less than what was actuarially required. And so on.

The argument generally centers on whose fault it is. You can pick your villain: Labor unions, Wall Street, the rich, the recession, an uncooperative market that can’t deliver the ridiculous 8 percent returns that many plans have counted on, the politicians. In simple terms, the right wing generally blames the unions for negotiating what some view as overly generous packages, while the unions have mostly argued that their benefits are legally protected by the state, and therefore cannot be cut back. Both miss the point. The unions should be angry about the underfunding of their pension benefits, while no one should be angry at the unions: it was their job to get the absolute best deal for their constituents that they could, and so they did. It doesn’t really matter if the promises were too generous or not generous enough: they were promises, and people relied on them.

Case against Bear and JPMorgan provides little cheer

Bethany McLean
Oct 10, 2012 16:31 UTC

Last week, New York Attorney General Eric Schneiderman, who is the co-chairman of the Residential Mortgage-Backed Securities Working Group – which President Obama formed earlier this year to investigate who was responsible for the misconduct that led to the financial crisis – filed a complaint against JPMorgan Chase. The complaint, which seeks an unspecified amount in damages (but says that investors lost $22.5 billion), alleges widespread wrongdoing at Bear Stearns in the run-up to the financial crisis. JPMorgan Chase, of course, acquired Bear in 2008. Apparently, this is just the beginning of a Schneiderman onslaught. “We do expect this to be a matter of very significant liability, and there are others to come that will also reflect the same quantum of damages,” Schneiderman said in an interview with Bloomberg Television. “We’re looking at tens of billions of dollars, not just by one institution, but by quite a few.”

The prevailing opinion seems to be, Yay! Someone is finally making, or at least trying to make, the banks pay for their sins. But while there is one big positive to the complaint, overall I don’t think there’s any reason to cheer.

Schneiderman’s case clearly lays out the alleged bad behavior at the old Bear Stearns. Although Bear promised investors it was doing due diligence on the mortgages it purchased, it wasn’t. Defendants “systematically failed to fully evaluate the loans, largely ignored the defects that their limited review did uncover, and kept investors in the dark about both the inadequacy of their review procedures and the defects in the underlying loans,” alleges the complaint. Even worse, Bear would make deals with the sellers of mortgages in which it would force them to make a payment for failed mortgages, but instead of taking the bad loan out of the trust, Bear would just keep the money – even though both Bear’s lawyers and its accountants (this is truly stunning), according to Schneiderman’s case, warned them that wasn’t OK.

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